


here come the tears

by thenightbefore



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Lighthearted, M/M, Mildly Crackish, Pre-Relationship, chan is a bby, i promise Wonu will be OKAY, jeonghan is pretty savage, pre-meanie, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightbefore/pseuds/thenightbefore
Summary: Jeonghan straightens, a smooth expression glossing over his worry. Mingyu gets chills at the instant temperature drop in the room. “Okay,” Jeonghan says, not missing a beat. He looks directly at Wonwoo. “You’re the least favourite out of Seventeen.”Silence.“Damn.” Chan whistles. “That was low.”----Wonwoo claims that nothing can make him cry, and invites the others to prove him wrong. It ends badly. Or does it.





	here come the tears

**Author's Note:**

> I've written some of SM Ch 5, but I just haven't been in a smut-writing headspace, so it's coming along pretty slowly. For now, here is fluffy romantic.. uh, humour? 
> 
> Enjoy <3
> 
> PS. I love Wonu more than anything in the entire world and I could write long paragraphs about why. I promise everything the members say is meant to be a PLAYFUL ROAST and not a serious critique because Wonwoo is absolutely lovely and needs multiple snuggles daily.

They’re curled up on the couch and Chan is teary-eyed. _Again._ This is nothing new, and Mingyu rolls his eyes fondly.

The four of them - Jeonghan, Chan, Mingyu and Wonwoo - are watching some kind of soapy drama, mostly through Chan’s insistence, and Chan has reached bawling state.

“Chan,” Jeonghan says. “It’s not that sad.”

“It’s really not,” Mingyu echoes.

“She woke up to find out the love of her life _left_ her and that she _also_ has cancer. On the s-same day! How is that not sad?” Chan is practically drowning in his own tears.

Mingyu snorts, because the formula has been done so many times that even if the acting _was_ somewhat decent, it still wouldn’t have tugged at his heartstrings. He looks over at Wonwoo, who is curled up against the couch headrest, and notices Wonwoo’s socks have penguins on them.

Mingyu bites his bottom lip. How adorable. He reaches over and tickles the sole of Wonwoo’s socked foot. “Cute,” he teases.

Wonwoo squirms away, playing some game on his phone. “Shut up,” is his response.

Mingyu’s still staring at Wonwoo’s socks, because _seriously, how cute,_ when Chan sobs loudly. “No! No! She can’t die!” He points to the TV screen like it’s the cause of his undying pain. This time even Wonwoo looks up from his game.

“Chan,” Wonwoo says matter-of-factly. “You’re a crybaby.”

Mingyu stifles a laugh. Chan whips his head around, eyes-rimmed red. “I - I am not!” he gasps out, as if it’s the most incredulous statement. “Take that back.”

“No.”

“I’m not a crybaby,” Chan says. “You’re just… well, hyung, you’re just… heartless.”

Everyone on the couch hushes. Jeonghan and Mingyu watch with rapt attention as Chan and Wonwoo stare at each other.

After a long silence, in which Chan wonders if Wonwoo’s going to murder him in cold blood, Wonwoo finally smirks. “I am heartless,” he decides. “I would never cry over a drama.”

Chan breathes a sigh of relief. The tension eases.

“You know, that’s true.” Jeonghan hums. “Forget dramas. I’ve never actually seen Wonwoo cry, ever.”

“Me neither,” Mingyu says, interest suddenly piqued. He pokes Wonwoo on the shoulder. “Hyung, what’s up with that?”

“I don’t cry.” Wonwoo shrugs.

Chan nods. “He does seem like that type.”

Mingyu glances again at Wonwoo’s penguin socks, and thinks, _is_ _he really that type?_  He reaches down and tickles Wonwoo’s feet again, causing Wonwoo to glare at him murderously. “I bet I could make you cry,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo laughs. “There’s no way. I’m too cool.”

“So cool,” Mingyu says, voice quieter, and by Wonwoo’s ear. “Wearing penguin socks and all.” This time, Mingyu doesn’t get a response, but Wonwoo looks slightly flustered, and Mingyu counts that as a win.

“I take on that challenge!” Chan pipes up, tears suddenly gone, drama forgotten. “Whoever makes Wonwoo-hyung cry first wins!”

"Wins what?” Jeonghan says, amused.

“Wonwoo has to pay for dinner,” Chan decides.

“I haven’t agreed to this,” Wonwoo says.

“Afraid you’ll cry?” Mingyu says lightly.

Mingyu laughs inwardly as Wonwoo’s eyes light up at the challenge. As much as people like to call Wonwoo an enigma - a _mysterious, multidimensional bad boy -_ he’s really too easy. All Mingyu has to do is taunt him to get a response. Heart flushing warmly, Mingyu slings an arm around Wonwoo, squeezing his skinny frame.

“Do your worst.” Wonwoo shrugs, settling into Mingyu’s arm. “My wallet is safe and my tear ducts are nonexistent.”

Jeonghan looks between all of them, a concerned expression flickering across his face. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” His voice goes soft. “Wonwoo, are you sure? Your feelings might get hurt, and it’s not like - I mean, if the challenge is to make you _cry -”_ He fumbles with his words. “I just don’t know if you understand the gravity of that.”

Wonwoo stares at Jeonghan’s grave expression. There’s silence. And then, Wonwoo _laughs,_ as if Jeonghan’s just told him that Seungkwan and Hansol _aren’t_ secretly fucking. The laugh is rich and velvety, emitting from the back of Wonwoo’s throat, and Mingyu’s heart jumps at his favorite sound.

“Oh my god, hyung,” Wonwoo says. “Are you serious? I can take it. I’m not a _crybaby._ ” He looks pointedly at Chan when he says the last part. Chan averts his gaze to the ground, as if embarrassed by his previous sobfest.

“I want you guys to really _try,_ ” Wonwoo insists. “I promise I won’t get hurt.”

There’s some more heavy silence. Then Jeonghan straightens, a smooth expression glossing over his worry. Mingyu gets chills at the instant temperature drop in the room. “Okay,” Jeonghan says, not missing a beat. “You’re the least favourite out of Seventeen.”

Silence.

“ _Damn._ ” Chan whistles. “That was low.”

Wonwoo expression doesn’t change.

Mingyu’s breath climbs to his throat, and his hand curls around Wonwoo’s shoulder comfortingly. Just _in case._ But after a second, Wonwoo shrugs. “Okay. And I care, why?”

Chan’s eyes widen. “So cool,” he mutters.

“I told you,” Wonwoo says. “You can’t hurt me. I’m like a… a solid, unmoving mountain.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and ruffles Wonwoo’s fluffy hair, thinking about all of the times Wonwoo’s clung to him during pre-debut, or mumbled sleepily about his favorite cat videos, or pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands.

 _A mountain,_ Mingyu thinks affectionately. _More like a cuddly plush toy._

“Let me try,” Chan says, hesitance in his voice. He clutches the blanket in his hand tightly. “Wonwoo-hyung… you’re….” He looks afraid, like Wonwoo might decapitate him at any second. There’s a halt in his voice. “You’re - you’re just not that funny.”

Mingyu groans, dragging a hand over his face.

Wonwoo’s face breaks into a smile. “Really? That - _that’s it?”_ He has a smug, self-satisfied expression on his face. “The other members already tease me about that.” He runs a hand through his hair, and glances at Mingyu. “I really am going to win this, aren’t I?”

“That was weak,” Mingyu agrees. “Chan, do you even _want_ this free dinner?”

“I’m sorry,” Chan whines. “I’m still soft from the drama.”

“It’s okay,” Mingyu says. “I’ll bring this home.”

Wonwoo’s lips quirk, and he looks up at Mingyu. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, but he’s fucking _soft._ How’s he supposed to insult Wonwoo when Wonwoo’s looking up at him with his lips in a tiny pout, lashes flickering, innocent bemusement on his face?

Mingyu clears his head. _Free dinner._ He needs to focus.

“You know, without all the makeup and styling, you’re honestly… a sore sight to look at.” Mingyu winces, holding his palm over his eyes. “Oh, god. My eyes are burning.”

Chan muffles his laughter behind his hand. Jeonghan shoots Mingyu a covert thumbs up, and Mingyu searches Wonwoo’s face, looking for a sign that he’s hurt. It’s a blatant lie.

Mingyu thinks Wonwoo looks achingly beautiful no matter what state he’s in, but that’s a secret Mingyu will take to his grave.

“No,” Wonwoo says, unfazed. “I’m handsome all the time, and I don’t care what your opinion is.”

Well, then.

Mingyu wonders where Wonwoo gets all this confidence from. It’s really a bit unnerving, the way he doesn’t even flinch at the insult. Mingyu knows he’d be a little shaken up.

He doesn’t have time to think about it before Jeonghan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands under his chin, and says, “Everyone’s glad you stay in your room playing games all day, because if you didn’t, we’d have to pretend to actually _like_ spending time with you.”

“Oh, fuck."Chan sputters. He’s holding the blanket like a lifeline, eyes darting between Jeonghan and Wonwoo.

They stare each other down. The clock ticks, and it feels like a bomb counting down. Finally, Wonwoo clears his throat. “The only company I need is myself.”

He’s stubbornly good at this. Mingyu doesn’t even realize he’s moved his hand over to Wonwoo’s, gently holding it for comfort, until Wonwoo gives him an eyebrow raise and a questioning glance. Mingyu hastily removes it, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He can’t believe Wonwoo’s this _inhumanely unaffected._

Is Wonwoo… is Wonwoo not human? Mingyu squints, observing him. That would explain his ability to stay so skinny while constantly pestering Mingyu for food.

“Next,” Wonwoo says languidly, stretching back and leaning into the couch. “God, this is easy.”

Mingyu’s theory about Wonwoo’s human status only gets stronger as the insults get deeper, quicker, more fiery, and yet Wonwoo remains expressionless, almost bored. He doesn’t quiver at any of them, not even the ones that make Mingyu’s _own_ heart twist in empathy.

“If you left Seventeen, nobody would care. Actually, _wait._ No. A celebration would be due.” (Jeonghan).

“If you weren’t handsome, you’d probably be homeless.” (Chan).

“You mentioned that your parents were kinda the distant type, yeah? Well, can’t blame them. I mean, _look at_ you.” (Mingyu flinches at his own words, instantly wanting to take them back, but Wonwoo looks _impressed_ , like he’s happy someone’s actually trying).

“Y-you’re like, the worst hyung out of them all.” (Chan. Wonwoo actually _boos_ him this time, taking a pillow and throwing it).

They continue, like rapid-fire bullets at Wonwoo’s heart, except Wonwoo must not _have one_ because Mingyu’s pretty sure nobody with a heart could resemble the picturesque coldness Wonwoo maintains on his face. Mingyu sure he’d have been a puddle of tears on the floor by now, begging his parents to whisk him away from his awful friends.

The insults have gotten so dark and careless that when it’s Mingyu’s turn, he doesn’t even bother filtering the roast on the tip of his tongue.

“All the fans talk about how they ship meanie,” he says. “But honestly, you’re the last person I’d ever want to be shipped with. Hell,” Mingyu laughs now, shaking his head. “Even our friendship. I _wish_ I could stop pretending to be friends, but I just keep playing along because of the fans, you know? Man, imagine if they  _really_ knew how much I hated spending time with you."

Mingyu waits for Jeonghan to throw out the next insult, but there’s silence. It’s too quiet, for too long.

Mingyu feels a slow, ice-cold dread sliver down his spine, pooling at the base of his stomach. He hesitantly turns to look at Wonwoo’s face, and his heart falls to the floor.

Wonwoo looks _hurt._ His eyes are wide, his hands clutching at the ends of his sleeves, mouth parted slightly, like he’s shocked at the admission. He looks vulnerable and upset, and Mingyu watches him blink rapidly, like he’s trying not to cry. “I - okay,” he says, swallowing hard. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

Except he does, and Mingyu feels like the worst person on planet earth. “Wonwoo,” he says, gently, trying to unfurl the knot in his chest. “You know I don’t-”

“No,” Wonwoo says, voice shaky. “I don’t fucking care. I told you, it’s fine.”

Jeonghan reaches a hand out toward Wonwoo. “He didn’t mean that. You have to know he didn’t.”

“I said I don’t care,” Wonwoo says, except his hands are digging into his thighs, and Mingyu can’t _bear_ this.

“Hyung,” Chan says. He sounds scared. “Please don’t cry. I know I said I wanted you to, but I really don’t think I can handle it.”

The tension in the room is like the frayed ends of a string - haltingly close to snapping. Mingyu’s entire heart is lodged in his throat as he tries to figure out a way to speak. All he can do is look at Wonwoo’s expression, the hurt plastered all over it, and nothing can make that better. How can he make _that_ better?    

Wonwoo looks up at him, making eye contact with Mingyu, and his expression crumbles. “I- I, fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to - uh, go get some water,” he mumbles.

Mingyu wants to die.

Wonwoo pauses in his footsteps. His voice trembles for a moment, before steadying. “Please don’t follow me.”

And that’s it. He walks away, and Mingyu stares numbly at the spot on the couch where Wonwoo was sitting. He tries not to start crying, even though he can already feel tears pricking at his eyes. He thinks about Wonwoo’s penguin socks and it makes him want to cry harder. He wishes they’d never played this stupid game in the first place.

"I didn't mean that," Mingyu says. "I didn't - you guys know I didn't mean it, right?"

"We know." Jeonghan reaches over and squeezes Mingyu's shoulders. "I just don't think he did."

“I - should one of us go after him?” Chan says, looking shocked, mouth pulled.

“I don’t think so,” Jeonghan says softly. “You heard him and… you know Wonwoo. He wouldn’t want us to see him crying.”

The quiet that spreads in the living room is a somber one. None of them look at each other. Chan toys with the end of the blanket, glancing expectantly between Jeonghan and Mingyu, as if one them will magically come up with a solution and Wonwoo will be cheery again (Wonwoo’s version of cheery, of course).

Mingyu wishes he could stuff the words he’d said and replace them with soft affection, because that’s what he _really_ feels towards Wonwoo.

Their friendship is everything to him - none of it is fanservice or a show for the fans. And being shipped with Wonwoo? He doesn’t mind _at all._ In fact, a secret, timid part of Mingyu kind of likes it.

But he doesn’t know how to say any of this, not when he’s already hurt Wonwoo’s feelings.

“I can’t take this,” Mingyu says, hands itching. “I’m going to talk to him. I - I _have_ to.”

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan warns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He said to leave him alone.”

“I don’t care.” Mingyu’s voice constricts painfully. “I hurt my _best friend._ ”

Nobody argues with that.

They let him go, even though he hears Jeonghan mutter, “ _this is a bad idea,_ ” under his breath.

Mingyu knows Wonwoo’s a private person, and if he’s crying, he’d never want anyone to see. But a part of Mingyu hopes that Wonwoo’s not crying. That he’s fine, that he’s realized, after a moment, that _of course_ Mingyu would never mean such an awful thing.

His heart hammers. When he enters the kitchen, any hope of that leaves Mingyu.

Wonwoo’s facing the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge, knuckles white. Mingyu watches as his back stiffens at the sound of footsteps entering.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu says, carefully, tenderly.

He gets no response. Mingyu calls his name again. 

This time, a muffled: “Go away."

There’s a dull throb against Mingyu’s chest. “You - are you okay?”

He's back to getting no response. Mingyu clears his throat, tries to work around his own thickening tears. “Please look at me.”

For a moment, Mingyu thinks Wonwoo’s going to continue to ignore him, but then there’s some shuffling, and Wonwoo turns around, head hanging low.

Mingyu licks his dry lips, stepping closer, but Wonwoo keeps his head low, hiding his face, like he’s scared to let anyone see that he’s hurt. Mingyu feels like he’s approaching a baby animal.

Wonwoo jerks away when Mingyu’s hand slides under his jaw, carefully lifting Wonwoo’s face to meet his.

Mingyu’s mouth drops when he sees Wonwoo. “Oh - oh, _Wonwoo._ ” He almost whimpers.

Wonwoo’s face is streaked with tears, eyes rimmed red, lower lip trembling. It’s a sight that Mingyu’s never seen, but it’s the most painful thing he’s ever witnessed.

Mingyu wants nothing more to squish Wonwoo into the tightest, most loving hug he can manage, but he doesn’t think he deserves to.

“Did you… did you really think I meant any of that?” Mingyu’s voice cracks. “I - Won, of course I didn’t mean it.”

Wonwoo shrugs, tears still thick in his eyes. “I - I don’t know. It just.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It just hurt. Because -” He pauses, stops himself. He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”

Mingyu’s ribs hurt from holding back his own tears. “Our friendship is so special to me,” he says, voice strained. “What I said back there - it was just a joke. I didn’t mean it.” Mingyu tries to put heat in his words, _insistence,_ anything to convince Wonwoo. “We’ve been so close since predebut. I - you’re - you mean _so much_ to me. How could you not know that?”

Mingyu reaches out, hesitantly, and cards his hand through Wonwoo’s hair.

Wonwoo bites his lip, and looks away, embarrassed. A hand goes up to wipe at his eyes. “I guess it just got to me. Because, I mean, with the fanservice, and I thought - maybe that’s why- because it kind of made sense, you know? That maybe that’s why you kept - oh, fuck.” Wonwoo’s mouth quivers, and Mingyu thinks, _oh no, please don’t start crying again._

But then Wonwoo breaks into a small, unabashed smile. “I can’t keep this up any longer.”

Mingyu blinks, hand pausing in Wonwoo’s hair. Tightening. “What?”

There’s a pause. And then, to Mingyu’s horror, Wonwoo _laughs._

He… laughs.

Mingyu stares in shock as Wonwoo laughs, head thrown back, deep and mesmerizing and Mingyu would have been _in love_ if he wasn’t so utterly confused.

His head spins and he takes a step back, watching Wonwoo scrunch his nose, mouth parted, almost doubled over in his laughter.

“Wh-what? What’s going on?”

“Oh my god,” Wonwoo says. “I fucking can’t believe this. You’re way too easy, Mingyu.”

“No. I’m. What.” Mingyu stutters. “What.”

“You’re face,” Wonwoo says, smile wide on his face. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever pulled off.”

_The best thing I’ve ever pulled off._

It’s then, with a kind of icy dread that Mingyu sees the _onions_ by the kitchen counter. Mingyu stares at them, then back at Wonwoo’s grinning, overjoyed face, and he can’t utter a single syllable. He’s dazed. He’s - he’s fucking done. What just happened?

_What?_

“Mingyu,” Wonwoo says, biting his lip to hold back more laughter. “Oh, c’mon, you’re not actually mad? This was hilarious.”

Mingyu just stares at the onions. Then at Wonwoo. “You,” Mingyu says slowly. “You sliced fucking onions for this?”

“I did.” Wonwoo shrugs. “It was worth it.”

Oh my god. He just got played. Mingyu blinks, heart pounding.

“And the - the whole thing back at the couch?”

“An act.” Wonwoo scoffs. “To be honest, I’m kind of mad. Who do you take me for? A crybaby like Chan?”

This is just great. Mingyu thinks he might start _actually_ crying because of how done he is. He wants to be so mad, _furious even._ Mingyu’s never been more worried in his life. But Wonwoo just stares at him, looking _so_ proud of his joke, and Mingyu sees the penguin socks, and a smile twitches on his lips.  

"I’m going to kill you,” Mingyu says.

“Good luck with that,” Wonwoo says. “You can’t even make me cry.”

That’s it.

Mingyu lets out a playful growling noise, and he launches himself at Wonwoo, strangling him into a suffocating hug, the kind that makes Wonwoo’s ribs hurt. After a minute of crushing him, he hears Wonwoo gasp out, “ _Please let me go."_

Mingyu takes pity on Wonwoo's ribcage and loosens his grip. He doesn’t let go though, just pulling back a little to look Wonwoo in the eyes.

“I hate you,” Mingyu says decidedly.

“No, you don’t,” Wonwoo says. He puts on a mocking tone. “ _Oh Wonwoo, our friendship is so special. You mean so much to me.”_

Mingyu reddens, and smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t,” he says, voice thick with embarrassment. “This is all your fault.”

Wonwoo snickers, and looks up at Mingyu. His smile grows a little nervous. “You’re not mad though, right?”

Mingyu waits a beat, because dammit, Wonwoo deserves some agony for what he's put Mingyu through. But then Wonwoo’s smile falters, and Mingyu instantly grins reassuringly, because he’s a weak, _weak_ man. “Nah. It’s okay. I’m glad you’re not really hurt.”

They stand like that for a while, Mingyu holding Wonwoo, close enough that he can smell Wonwoo’s shampoo. It’s sweet, and Mingyu rests his head on top of Wonwoo’s. He’s just glad Wonwoo’s not actually hurt, because the sight of him in tears, over something _Mingyu_ said to him - it almost destroyed him.

“Hey, so - the whole “don’t follow me” was that-?”

“I needed time to prepare the onions.”

Fucking hell. Mingyu swears Wonwoo’s the devil incarnate. The devil incarnate with round dorky glasses and oversized sweaters.

Mingyu hums, fingers gently tracing Wonwoo’s arm. “I don’t think you’re human.”

Wonwoo snorts. He squirms in Mingyu’s grip, and turns around to face him. A shy expression crosses his face, and Mingyu raises a brow.

“I’m human,” Wonwoo admits, softly. “If - if I actually thought you meant any of those things.” He looks to the ground, scuffing his feet. “Yeah, that would have hurt.”

Mingyu swallows, heart splitting. “Yeah,” he echoes, hoarsely. He finds his voice. “But I’d never mean that.”

Wonwoo nods, but Mingyu _swears_ he sees some part of Wonwoo ease and relax. “Yeah, I _know,_ I’m not a dumbass.”

Ah. There it is. Any vulnerability is gone. Mingyu pouts, about to reply, but he’s interrupted by someone clearing their throat. They turn to the side, aware that they’re still entangled with each other, to see Jeonghan and Chan just standing there, the former with a chilling expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” Jeonghan utters, slowly, menacingly. Ah. Wonwoo just played Jeonghan. This isn’t going to end well for him.

Wonwoo bites his lip. “Uh - yeah. Um.” He gives Mingyu a desperate look, eyes wide. Mingyu just stares between the three of them, then clutches Wonwoo’s hand, gripping it tightly. He’s made his decision. He mouths “Run.” and Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate. Before Mingyu can blink, they’re running toward the staircase, Wonwoo laughing in short fits, and Mingyu can’t help but join him.

Jeonghan walks slowly, voice sweetly calling after them. “Wonwoo-yah, you just worried your hyung for no reason.”

Wonwoo picks up his pace, dragging Mingyu behind him.

They hear Chan cry out, “Where did the onions come from?” and Mingyu stifles a laugh.

“More importantly,” Jeonghan says. “Look, a knife! Just laying out in the open.”

“Oh my god, _run,_ ” Wonwoo presses, and all Mingyu can think about is Wonwoo’s hand gripping his, and he’s suddenly overcome by a gigantic surge of affection. Wonwoo can do anything in the entire world and Mingyu will follow him blindly.

By the time they reach Wonwoo’s room, door shut behind them, Wonwoo’s a mess, eyes sparkling, laughter breathless, and Mingyu stares at him a minute too long.

Because yeah.

He never wants to see Wonwoo cry.

**Fini.**

**Author's Note:**

> sooo did people fall for nonu's joke? hahah. let me know if u had ur suspicions :-)) 
> 
> I'm sorry that the writing quality was a bit messier than my other stuff, but I wrote this purely for fun <3
> 
> thank u for reading!


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